The Eldest
by Petite Rogue
Summary: Voldemort has a problem. Every time he sends his daughters to Hogwarts to woo the Boy-Who's-A-Pain-In-His-Ahem, lure him back to his lair so that he can finish him off, they fail. His last hope lies in his eldest.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

* * *

**The Eldest**

_**Chapter 1**_

Lord Voldemort had a problem.

Sitting on his throne, he gazed around the dark room, eyes stopping at the thick dust which had settled and the cobwebs that hung from each corner, and momentarily interrupted his thoughts with ponderings of whether a spring clean would be in order. He had been sitting there so long that even he was beginning to gather dust. But he really did have a problem that he wasn't quite sure how to solve. The past four years he had been sending a daughter to Hogwarts in hopes that they would befriend that sodding Boy-Who-Lived, lure him to his lair where he would finally be able to torture him slowly before killing him and amounting to greatness.

Except that plan wasn't going exactly to plan as many of the other plans he'd had before it.

In Harry Potter's third year, Lucinda Brazzaville Eucalyptus Riddleman had, despite her young age, deviated from her path and fallen for the modest charms of a certain Remus Lupin, and he had fallen for the dark haired beauty. Who could resist hair that fell with such straightness to the small of her back, those dark eyes with so many secrets hidden behind them, and the Good Looks Charm Voldemort had placed on the Lucinda when she was a foetus? Inevitably, Lupin had cursed her with lycanthropy when she got too close. Lucinda had also been the real reason he lost his job. Paedophilia was forbidden to Beings. Only wizards could ravage underage girls and get off scotch free. She was banished from the Wizarding World, and she had good sense not to return to her father asking for mercy. Voldemort had heard it on the grapevine that now she was of Age, Lupin had abandoned his on/off wife blood-traitor wife to be with Lucinda because, after all, she was his true love.

In Harry Potter's fourth year, Magenta Eclaire Sophie Riddleton had deviated from her path and fallen for the wooing power of Barty Crouch Jr. Even someone as dedicated and mad as he needed some sexual relief, and as a wizard Crouch was fully within his rights to seek that from an inexperienced underage girl. And besides, she was the Dark Lord's daughter, so it made for some mind-blowing fantasies. Or so Voldemort had reasoned at a later date. Magenta had helped orchestrate the Triwizard Tournament fiasco and had stood proudly by his side as he regained his full body, able to touch the Boy-Who's-A-Fucking-Pain-In-His-Arse and watching the betrayal in his eyes evident at seeing Magenta, a fellow Gryffindor with bright pink hair that had so reminded Harry of Tonks so she had inevitably trusted the transfer student, standing next to Voldemort. Of course, her father hadn't realised that Magenta had fallen for Crouch until news of his death reached them, and she died that summer of heartbreak. Voldemort had shrugged on news of her death. Potter had seen her real identity rendering her, quite frankly, bloody useless.

In Harry Potter's fifth year, Alexandria Costa Nero Riddling had found it much more difficult to infiltrate her way into the arms of Harry Potter. After Lucinda and Magenta, Harry (and Dumbledore) were growing wary of these exchange students with good looks who appeared from seemingly nowhere with this amazingly tragic backgrounds and were always Sorted into Gryffindor and just happened to be in Harry's Year. The first obstacle had been the Sorting; Alexandria, with her wavy silvery grey hair and perfect features had been Sorted into Ravenclaw. A descendant of Slytherin – in Ravenclaw! Voldemort had not been able to resist the urge of sending her an Owler. He had quite enjoyed putting on a falsetto voice, pretending to be Alexandria's distraught mother that she had been Sorted into that House. Never mind his other daughters who had been Sorted into Gryffindor. He had only later realised that doing so had not been wise. People would now think she was meant to be a Slytherin. But Alexandria was his daughter, and through Cho Chang, she had wormed herself onto Dumbledore's Army, and stolen Harry Potter's first kiss. Falling for her tragic story, the first of his daughter's had actually succeeded! That is until Harry took her home for Christmas, where she met Sirius Black. She died of heart ache that summer. Voldemort buried her in the garden next to the pet fish.

In Harry Potter's sixth year, with all the angst and grief he was feeling from losing both Sirius and Alexandria, the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Already-Fucking-Died was susceptible to Morgana Merlina Warlocksa Riddla's charm. At the beginning, she had been his favourite daughter by far. With her stunning icy blue eyes and waves of raven locks, she had gotten Sorted into Slytherin. Finally, someone unafraid to do her heritage proud! Using Potter's interest in what Malfoy Jr. was up to, she had manipulated him into falling for her, finding a way to make him see the Slytherin House as nothing more than misunderstood. It had been going oh so perfectly, with Malfoy finding a way into Hogwarts and with Potter wrapped securely round Morgana's little finger, until the two fell in love. Voldemort had gone on a killing rampage when he'd gotten the Owl from his waste-of-space daughter informing him that she and Malfoy had run away together, and he had cut off his arm and somehow grown it back without the Dark Mark so they were untraceable. Every now he would get a postcard from a Muggle resort, but there was no way he was going to Costa Brava, no matter how much he wanted to kill them both, slowly and painfully.

His plans had been ruined, and Dumbledore, the old codger, left very much alive.

So not only did Voldemort have the problem that his arch-nemesis was still twinkling away somewhere, Morgana had been his last daughter. He should have known that keeping the spawn of all those miserable wenches he fucked about two years before his demise would ultimately lead him to trouble. Everything had gone Pete Tong, and he was now at a loss of what to do.

Of course, he could just ignore the Potter Boy and focus on killing as many vile Mudbloods as he could before his time was up, and Dumbledore figured out some way of defeating him, using Potter as his sword. But Voldemort hated waiting, even more if it was for his death. He had not ruined his good looks and divided his soul into seven so that he could just die.

A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie.

"What is it?" he hissed, proud at the way his voice shot across the room, leaving a dust trail behind it.

The door opened and in stepped the solution to his problems. Lord Voldemort did in fact have another daughter: Eleanor.

She had no other name but Eleanor, for she had grown despising her Muggle heritage, and refused all names that would remind her. That included any ridiculous variations of the Riddle name; she spat whenever she heard them, meaning she had never been a favourite amongst the other sisters. She was aloof and her mind brilliant, always locked up in her quarters doing something or other, often in the company of Severus Snape. Voldemort had not used her in his plans because she was too old, having recently turned twenty, but also because she was unfortunately a pure half-blood. It was a long story that neither he, or she, liked to get into.

"Father," Eleanor greeted, kneeling at his feet as she did so. She was also the only daughter he had never felt the need to torture. The others, all so rebellious, all carrying mostly the traits of their mothers that Voldemort should have never stuck his dick into.

"What is it?" he asked again, though this time softer.

"I have plan."

Voldemort leant forward, intrigued. "You do, do you?"

"Hogwarts needs a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

* * *

**A/N** - A little ficlet thing that popped into my head whilst looking at OC stories (including my own!). Voldemort's daughter has a tendency to always fall in love with the enemy and thwart her father's plans. It's nothing serious. Enjoy and review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

**The Eldest**

_**Chapter 2**_

Albus Dumbledore had a problem. Or several if he was honest.

It had come to his attention that Voldemort was sending what Dumbledore supposed were his daughters to Hogwarts to befriend Harry Potter but every time it had backfired. Now he had to reject all transfer students for fear that Voldemort was up to his old tricks, continuing to attempt a plan that just would not work. Luckily Dumbledore had escaped the last year with his life intact, but he was slowly dying anyway, his hand shrivelling up like an old prune, slowly but surely, so all that had happened was a delay in the dying process. At least now he had enough time to continue putting Harry through hell in order to fight battles that he could probably fight, or at least, older experienced people. Who needs a childhood anyway? Maybe he needed to pay Trelawney to make another prophecy, arrange for Severus to hear it again, and then set some other events into motion, because quite frankly, he was tired.

He now also had the added pressure of having to interview for a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The Board of Governors had received too many complaints from parents to allow Severus Snape to carry on. Defence was supposed to be a fun class and they did not want it to drop in popularity. Snape had been sulking in his dungeons ever since Dumbledore gently broke the news to him.

Arranging his lemon drops, Dumbledore prepared for his latest, and only, interviewee. Word had spread that the job was cursed, and well, though Snape had not died, he had certainly not lasted longer than a year.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, putting on his best twinkle face.

In stepped a tall woman, in her mid-twenties if Dumbledore was correct, dressed in smart robes. This was the most normal Defence teacher he had ever seen. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her hazel eyes shone with what Dumbledore considered was hope. He had no doubt she would be a hit with the male population of Hogwarts, and would most likely come to warm the female half.

"I am grateful you could come Miss..."

"Jenkins," the woman smiled, shaking his hand. He was transfixed for a moment, certain he had seen her face before. That confident smile, the smile of someone with a purpose. "Eleanor Jenkins. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to see me Headmaster."

"Please take a seat, and a sherbet lemon if you would like."

"No thank you. I don't have much of a sweet tooth."

Eleanor Jenkins had declined politely, though she resisted the urge to throw the lemon drops in his face. Not only was the Headmaster probably damaging his student's teeth, they were most likely laced with a Calming Draught. And besides, Eleanor, like her father, hated all sweet things.

"So Miss Jenkins, do tell me what brings you here to Hogwarts?"

"Curiosity," Eleanor replied. "I have heard that no Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has lasted longer than a year, and I want to see if that's really true."

"What makes you think you can last?"

"If there is a curse on the job, as the Defence teacher surely it is my job to defend myself against such Dark Arts?"

"And why Miss Jenkins, should I give you the job?"

"Because I am confident Headmaster that I am the only applicant."

Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses, surveying the young woman before him with twinkling curiosity. She smiled back at him, unmoved by his scrutinising gaze. After all, she was very much used to worse than this old man who was attempting to unashamedly search through her mind. She had carefully placed memories of her time at Westminster Witches Academy at the forefront, as well as what she had for lunch. After what seemed like ages, he was satisfied and smiled.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore now had 99 problems but at least this bitch wasn't one of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

* * *

**The Eldest**

_**Chapter Three**_

Severus Snape had a problem.

He was supposed to be on Dumbledore's side, quietly betraying the monster that had ruined his life by betraying him, whilst making up for inadvertently murdering his one true love. Harry Potter was supposed to be the son he never had, resenting him for this fact but always protecting him because he is, after all, Lily's son. Severus had been forced for to live with the guilt that, if it wasn't for him, there would be no Boy-Who-Lived. And he, Severus, would not be a teacher. He would still be a top Death Eater, and there would be no guilt in what he was doing now.

Another cauldron crashed to the floor as he and Eleanor, the woman who had stolen his job, tore at each other's robes, destroying his workplace in the progress. Professor Eleanor Jenkins was a hard woman to resist, and now she was out of her father's gaze, Severus gave in to human instincts and stopped resisting. And yet his every thrust of pleasure seemed to be marred by the feeling that he was betraying someone.

"You know what your problem is?" Eleanor mumbled into his shoulder as they lay under his desk, enjoying the post-coital atmosphere.

"What?"

"You think too much."

"What does that have anything to do with anything?"

"It affects your performance."

Severus scowled at the criticism, but his scowl eased as Eleanor begun trailing kisses along his collarbone. The full lips she had no doubt inherited from her mother had proven hard to resist since the first time Severus had tasted them. They would argue, almost kill each other and then there would be a lull, a few moments of nothingness and then clothes would go flying, hands searching, cauldrons flying and under a table they would end up.

"When you're with me, I want your thoughts to be on me."

Since their first tryst in the broom cupboard after Sorting, every moment that wasn't spent marking and plotting people's downfalls, they were wrapped in each other's arms. Eleanor wasn't Lily, but Lily was dead and Eleanor gave pretty good head. Amongst other things. It was growing frustrating though, for every time Eleanor got close to almost killing the Potter boy, he had to step in, be the much-hated hero and the almost get killed by Eleanor. Severus reasoned that in all these near-death experiences, at least he always got sex out of it. And Eleanor was quite like him. He had often kept her company at the Lair, but sometimes they had just sat in silence, reading and those were his favourite days. He could sit and read with her for the rest of his life.

"Your father will kill me," he said after awhile, realising this was also a problem. The Dark Lord had made it clear he wanted his daughters chaste for whichever man he decided to whore her out to. No one pointed out that all his daughters were whores anyway, so it didn't much matter; they valued their lives more.

Eleanor kissed him softly, reassuringly.

"Not if I don't let it affect my performance."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

**The Eldest**

_**Chapter 4**_

Lord Voldemort once again had a problem.

He had run out of daughters.

He was back to square one, with a very much alive Harry Potter. He crumpled up the latest note of misery, and cast it aside, it falling in between the piles of bodies now littering his throne room. He'd gone on a little killing spree to ease his anger. The words were already etched in his mind, hurting more than if someone stuck a knife in his back and kept twisting.

_Father, _she had had the audacity to begin.

_Severus Snape and I have fallen in love._

Of course Voldemort should have expected it. That Snape had always been skulking around Eleanor. He should have known men and women can never be just friends.

_Morgana and I have put aside our difference, and she and Draco have invited us to stay at their summer house until we can get back on our feet. I am pregnant, so I expect I will give birth to a miniature you who will feel the need to carry on your legacy once Potter and his little gang has defeated you and given birth to other little ones who will no doubt put another end to your legacy._

He had been slightly stung by her lack of faith.

_But look at it this way, Lucinda and Morgana are going to have babies too, so if we feel like it, we'll create a mini-army of Heirs of Slytherin and beat some Gryffindor arse. We promise._

Yeah, right. They would probably fall in love with each other too.

_You were a good father to me. Sorry I was just as bad as the others._

_The fact my mother was a Muggle did not make me any different._

Voldemort decided it made her five million times worse. The one who was most like him had betrayed him the worst.

_Eleanor_

_P.S. – Dumbledore has found and destroyed all your Horcruxes. And Potter has the power to come back to life nine times. His mother was the descendant of Bastet. Morgana says you're always welcome to visit if you decide to retire from all this, but she says there's a killing ban in their house._

Voldemort vowed that next time he did this, he would father many sons instead.

Daughters, however perfect, were fucking useless.

* * *

**A/N** - Ah, this is probably why Voldemort never had daughters who infiltrated Hogwarts because he went back in time and told his old self that it would only fail! Actually, what would happen if Voldemort had a Timeturner? Hmm...

I hope you enjoyed this little thing, and please review if you can! :)


End file.
